Page 55 of Wedding or Not

“Oh.” He’s right. Maybe I forgot about it, or maybe I was pretending. “So that means we can’t even kiss?”

“I don’t think we should.”

Shit.

Damn.

Shit.

I hate this.

I want to kiss him so much.

“Okay.” I stare down at my trembling hands and suddenly can’t stand it. I scramble out of the SUV and hurry toward my cottage.

“Ella, wait.” He climbs out of the car too and rushes over.

I stop but don’t turn around.

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just…” I shrug off the aching feeling, trying to shake it off the way a dog shakes off water. “You’re right. That’s going to mess things up between us. So let’s not kiss again.”

CHAPTER 18

At the end of the following week, a mainstream wedding magazine comes to Blossom Park to do a major feature and photo shoot.

The feature they’d originally scheduled for an upcoming issue fell through, so we became their last-minute replacement. The theme and concept will be choosing the particular spot in Blossom Park to hold our wedding ceremony, so we get to show off all the beautiful, unique wedding settings we offer.

Nature must be on our side because the day dawns clear and fresh with a vivid blue sky, aesthetically fluffy clouds, and bright sunshine highlighting the blooming flowers all over the various gardens.

Once again, a lot of thought and planning goes into my outfits—I have four and will change into them throughout the photo shoot. Even Wes has to put up with directions about his clothes, although he ends up in tailored trousers with four different sweater-vests, so he looks basically normal.

We start in the rose garden, where we staged the proposal. There are so many people around and so many cameras and people calling out directions that I can barely think. I mindlessly do what I’m told, arranging my body as I’m instructed.

Wes appears slightly impatient with the commotion, but he’s playing along. Of course he is.

This is what we’ve always wanted.

One of the best things that can happen to a wedding-event venue is to be featured in a national magazine like this.

I don’t like the process any more than Wes does, but we’re both going through it without a word of complaint.

I’m wearing one of Aunt Grace’s dresses—this one is a gorgeous dark rose color with a layered skirt and thick sundress straps—and the top layer of my hair is pulled back in a stylized braid. I felt pretty when I first got dressed, but now I’m getting hot and tired.

And it’s still the first area and outfit.

Wes and I obediently arrange ourselves in pose after pose. We’ve been getting along pretty well for the past days because we’re both pretending the interrupted kiss in the car never happened.

But we haven’t been close. Not like we were that evening.

So we’ve been just a little stiff with each other today. Until, after several minutes of shots the photographer isn’t happy about, Wes starts murmuring dry comments.

As we’re gazing at each other adoringly, he says without moving his lips, “If that man doesn’t stop telling me to manufacture a dreamy expression, I’m going to lose it.”

As we’re sitting on one of the stone benches together, he says through his teeth, “I think the assistant hates the photographer.”

And as we’re holding an almost-kiss in front of the roses, he asks, “Do people really go for this kind of thing?”